


The Hidden City

by Sigridhr



Series: I Climbed a Tree to See the World [2]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Damsels in Distress, Elves, F/M, Fairies, Mild Gore, Not Canon Compliant, Treasure Hunt, Violence, Worldbuilding, everyone has trust issues, lost civilisations, more bastardisation of mythology, political shennanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-05 23:50:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12805074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigridhr/pseuds/Sigridhr
Summary: When Darcy comes across a treasure map hidden in Odin's library, Thor decides to get the band back together for one last adventure before he gets hitched. What happens next can only be described as Thor and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Adventure.A sequel toThe White Hart.





	1. The Map

**Author's Note:**

> This wouldn't exist without [amidtheflowers](http://archiveofourown.org/users/amidtheflowers/pseuds/amidtheflowers), who is a fantastic beta reader and my best friend. She's put up with no end of nattering about this, read draft upon draft without complaining, and always knows how to put into words exactly what the story needs at any given point. 
> 
> This is also heavily inspired by the works of H Rider Haggard (particularly _She_ ), and the Lost World genre in general. It also heavily nods in the direction of Tolkien and his source material. Finally, the idea of The W3 + Sif heading off one one last adventure initially sprung from DemonQueen666's [Ne'er Say We Die](http://archiveofourown.org/works/395832/chapters/650688), but I'm fairly confident that this should take a very different route and that I'm not stepping too heavily on their toes. It is, however, one of my all-time favourites for this pairing, so if you haven't read it, you should. 
> 
> In theory, this should update every fortnight. As always, feedback is very welcome.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thor decides on an unconventional stag-do and everyone gets pumped for an adventure which gets put off until the next chapter, except Loki who doesn’t get pumped for anything that isn’t world domination.

The funniest thing about Jane’s upcoming wedding was how hopelessly and hilariously un-Jane it was. Granted, this was probably a given for intergalactic space glam weddings in general (Jane had admitted as much), but it always gave Darcy pause to see Jane stuffed into heavily embroidered dress after embroidered dress, introduced to every Lord Whatsit and Lady Whatsherface from all the nine realms, and to see her groomed to be a future queen.

What it amounted to, in the end, was an incredibly stressed and fish-out-of-water Jane, trying (ever the perfectionist) to nail a complex set of social customs she had not grown up with under the scrutiny of thousands of people older than dirt. And Darcy – who felt out of place, even more so than before, and increasingly unwelcome. After all, there was the horrible ‘I’ve been sleeping with your wayward son’ business that everyone was very politely Not Talking About. 

In fact, Darcy was so very much Not Talking About It, and even Not Thinking About It that she had concocted three separate plans to change her life around –get a boyfriend (a normal one), get a new job, and learn to fight in case the first two fall through. So far none of them were remotely working and sitting in the halls where Loki grew up, his absence never mentioned but always conspicuous, was only making it worse. 

So, Darcy was, well, not exactly _hiding_ , but definitely strategically avoiding people. Currently she was practicing said strategic avoidance in the library, which was her preferred place to be. Most of the texts weren’t in English (or the All-tongue, she supposed), which meant she basically got to look at pictures, but enjoyed it nonetheless. She was leafing through the shelves, picking up covers that appealed to her when she found it. Wedged between two particularly ponderous looking tomes, it seemed to be made of hide and was soft when she pulled it out. It had been rolled and then thoroughly squashed, and she spread it out on the table. 

It was a treasure map. 

A real, honest-to-god treasure map. 

It showed a landscape Darcy didn’t recognise (not particularly surprising), carefully annotated in a cramped font with descriptions of various landscape landmarks (mostly distinctive trees and rocks, judging by what she could make out). Directions for following a path – all vague and appropriately treasure-map-esque, directed the map owner to walk a path leading to something merely marked with a black ‘x’ and a label ‘the passage’. From there on there were no directions, only a vast, blank stretch of map and on the far edge of the page a larger ‘x’ which was simply labelled ‘Steinnleyndur’. She traced over it with her fingertips, her heart racing. 

She touched the label for Steinnleyndur and muttered, “X marks the spot.” Then, looking around furtively to see if she’d been spotted, she quickly rolled it up and shoved it into her bag. 

She was sure that she must have looked suspicious the way she was scuttling through the halls, but no one stopped her as she quickly made her way to Jane’s rooms. She knocked and then barged her way in. 

Jane was sprawled on her stomach on the bed, propped up on her elbows and reading, while Thor sat at the desk making his way through a pile of documents nearly as tall as Darcy’s pile of data printouts to input back home. 

“Hi,” Jane said, shutting the book with a snap. “You do realise there’s no point in knocking if you’re going to barge in anyway?” 

“You will forgive me when you see this,” Darcy said, pulling map out with aplomb and flattening it out on the bed. “Voila!” 

Thor chuckled at her excitement as he made his way around the bedframe to stand beside her. He picked it up and ran his fingers over its surface gently. “Where did you find this?”

“Library,” said Darcy. “Err… hoping you don’t mind me borrowing it.” 

Thor gave a half-shrug. “It is no matter.” He ran his hands slowly over the map again. “I had thought that this was lost.” 

“What is it?” Jane asked, curiously, crawling forward across the bed to peer at the map. “A map?” 

“A _treasure_ map,” corrected Darcy. “This is some straight-up Goonies shit, Jane.”

“Perhaps,” said Thor, thoughtfully. “Loki and I found it once, when we were much younger. We had planned to follow it, but it went missing.” 

Darcy very successfully did not flinch at the sound of Loki’s name. _Barely_.

“Do you know where it leads?” Jane asked, squinting at the marginalia. “Half the directions seem to be missing.” 

“Yes,” said Thor. “It is most mysterious. It was to be a grand adventure – to chart the way to Steinnleyndur,” he added, somewhat wistfully. “Though we had many after, I am still curious. It is odd to see it again now.” 

“What’s Steinnleyndur?” Darcy asked.

“It is difficult to know for certain,” Thor said, passing the map to Jane, who let it pool in her lap, bending low over it to read the directions. “My brother believed it was an ancient city, referenced in some texts, hidden in a pocket between the nine realms.” 

“A city full of _treasure_?” Darcy pressed. “Like El Dorado?” 

“What is El Dorado?” Thor asked. 

“Nevermind,” Jane cut in, hurriedly. “What’s meant to be there?”

“Wealth, perhaps,” said Thor, “though that was never of much interest. A lost people, more certainly. It is difficult to know what one might find in a place so long lost and forgotten.” Somewhat wistfully he added, “It would have been a truly great adventure to find it.” 

“Well, why not?” Darcy said, cheerfully. “You could still go.” 

Thor’s gaze flicked from her to the map and back again. 

“No,” said Jane. “No, no. There’s so much to _do_!” 

“Yes,” said Thor. “There is much to do – but why not? We have spent these past months preparing and attending tedious functions. Why not have a little fun? It has been far too long since I have set forth on a true adventure.”

“Hang on,” Darcy said. “You want to go on some kind of intergalactic stag-do?”

Thor looked blankly at her, as if he were deciding whether or not it was worth asking for clarification. 

“This sounds like a bad idea,” said Jane.

“Are you _kidding_? It sounds like a great idea!” Darcy threw her hands up into the air. “C’mon Jane, we could be like pirates! Find some lost city and follow an honest-to-god _treasure map_. How often do you get that chance?” 

“I don’t know…” Jane worried her lip between her teeth. 

“And you can’t tell me you aren’t curious,” Darcy added, tugging the map down towards Jane. Thor seemed to catch her drift, and wrapped an arm around Jane’s shoulders, leaning in close. They circled Jane in, grinning conspiratorially.

“No one has seen this in thousands of years,” Darcy said. “We’d be the first humans _ever_ to go.” 

“Perhaps longer,” Thor added. “It was lost long before I was born.” 

Jane worried her lip and looked down at the map. “It would be an incredible opportunity.” 

“It will be perfectly safe,” Thor added, reassuringly. “I will be with you. Just a quick trip there to see what secrets this map holds, and then a quick trip back.” 

“Just there and back?” Jane asked. 

“Just there and back.” Thor smiled at her reassuringly. 

“Oh, man,” said Darcy. “This is gonna be _ace_.” 

…

“I have heard mutterings of plans for a grand adventure,” said Frigga, slipping silently into place next to Darcy at the railing and scaring the ever-loving crap out of her in the process. 

“Apologies,” Frigga said, her eyes bright with amusement. “I did not mean to startle you.” 

“No worries,” Darcy replied. In truth she’d been somewhat avoiding Frigga, something which she strongly suspected Frigga was aware of. She took a deep breath, looking out over the city. “Yeah, Thor’s got his heart set on going looking for buried treasure.”

“I am not surprised,” Frigga said, her voice soft as she too turned to face the same view. “He is rarely still for so long. I had expected something of this sort would arise. I understand it was you who found the map?”

Darcy felt herself blush. “Sorry – I didn’t mean to snoop.”

“You have free reign here,” Frigga said, dismissively. 

It was hard not to feel a little guilty at that given _she_ at least felt as if she’d betrayed their hospitality. She constantly felt as if she were waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never seemed to. 

Frigga smiled at her gently, and then in a gesture that felt distinctly maternal, she brushed a lock of Darcy’s hair behind her ear. 

“In truth,” she said, ”I had been meaning to speak to you for some time, but we do seem to keep missing one another.” 

Darcy stared steadfastly out at the horizon. “I’m sorry,” she muttered.

“Perhaps it is I who should apologise.” Frigga’s hand came to rest on top of Darcy’s own. “I should have clarified our position, for I can see you are in some distress. You are welcome in our home, both as a friend of Jane and as a friend of Thor’s… just as you would be welcome as a friend of either of my sons.” 

Darcy swallowed drily, wanting desperately to be anywhere but this conversation. 

“I have often wondered what role your presence was meant to play, for no mortal sets foot in Asgard without purpose. I begin to see now where you fit, but I confess I have many unanswered questions.” 

“I suppose answers are long overdue,” said Darcy. “What do you want to know?”

“Is he well?” Frigga’s voice was soft. 

“Not really,” Darcy said. “I mean, physically, I think he’s fine. Mentally, he’s… well, kind of a mess.” It was like a dam breaking, and all of a sudden all the things she’d wanted to talk to Jane about but felt too awkward to say – too much like it was placing Jane in an awkward position with Thor – came spilling out. “I don’t understand him at all. He’s all over the map, like even _he_ doesn’t know what he wants. He’s both impulsive and needy on one hand, and pushes me away constantly with the other.”

“In some ways he was always so,” said Frigga quietly. “Although he was once better at hiding it. It grieves me that he still does not know how to ask for what he needs, and accept it when it is offered.”

“So he was always like this?” Darcy couldn’t quite keep a lid on her curiosity. 

“Oh, yes,” said Frigga, her expression both fond and sad all at once. “I’m sure my son believes he was not as loved as his brother growing up – he has said as much to me – but I watched them both equally, and worried equally.”

“I imagine he was a handful.” 

Frigga looked amused. “No more so than his brother. They are both impulsive, driven by their emotions before logic. But friends came naturally and easily to Thor. I felt always that Loki saw friendship as a task to be completed – as if a certain combination of saying and doing would guarantee success. He envied Thor’s easy way, for he was not so outgoing and his interests were not so widely shared.” 

“Like whacking things with a hammer?”

“My son is particularly adept, yes,” said Frigga, amused. “And many of the children of the Aesir respond well to such straightforward pursuits. But I believe Loki’s true problem was not that no one shared his interests, but rather that he did not wish to spend time without Thor, nor, Thor without he. He was very bookish and bright – Thor, sadly, does not share those traits.” 

“I find that kinda hard to believe – that they were so close,” Darcy said, ignoring the fact that his mother had basically called Thor dumb and filing that away for later. “I mean, now…”

“Both great affection and great enmity are born of great feeling,” said Frigga. “They were very close.” 

“That’s… awful.” Darcy looked down at her feet. “I don’t understand how it all fell apart.”

“I did my son a disservice,” said Frigga. “While I was aware of my own feelings and my love for him, I assumed that they would be known to him as plainly as I felt them. There are a great many things I should have said when I still had time.” 

“Do you know where he is?” Darcy asked. 

“He is beyond my sight,” Frigga replied. “And he will not return so long as he believes he is unwelcome.”

“Is he?” She regretted asking almost immediately, wondering if she’d stepped over a line. Frigga was silent for a long moment. 

“Not for my part. But he cannot return without facing consequences for his behaviour. I cannot – and would not – keep him from that. Until he has repaid and repaired the damage he has done here, there is some truth to the idea that he is unwelcome. Though not so unwelcome or unloved as he believes.” 

“What would happen if he came back?” 

“Odin’s wrath is great, but fair,” Frigga said. “And Loki would be held accountable, but then forgiven. It is in the nature of parents to forgive their children their faults – after all, are they not also our faults as well? Decisions we made in raising Loki have brought him to this, and we pay for them even now.” 

“You love him,” said Darcy. 

“Of course,” said Frigga. “That has never changed. However for a long time I felt as though he were lost to us, and no matter how I looked at it I could see no path that ended with him returning home.” She turned and faced Darcy. “Until you.”

“I haven’t done anything…” Darcy began.

“Very few beings would walk into Helheim to retrieve someone they love,” said Frigga.

“I don’t –“

Frigga carried on as if Darcy hadn’t spoken. “And fewer mortals. My son has few true attachments, and fewer friends. I worried often when he was young of how he stood always to one side, always one step away from his chosen group of friends. Always following Thor’s choices rather than his own. And he has not listened to counsel in many years. I believe he would listen to you.”

“I really don’t think –“ Darcy said, feeling awkward and bare under the weight of Frigga’s gaze. 

“I find your kind fascinating,” she said. “I had not understood Thor’s fascination with Jane, though I respect his choice. I do not understand my son’s fascination with you. Odin chose to send Thor to your realm and I was against it – after all, what could your people possibly teach my son that he and I were unequipped to teach? But I feel I am beginning to see the wisdom in his choice – he was always more fond of your kind than I.” 

Darcy didn’t even know where to begin unpacking _that_. “I don’t understand,” she said. 

Frigga smiled gently and sadly. “Perhaps not,” she said. “But it seems I have little choice to leave my son in your hands.” She picked up Darcy’s hands, cradling them in her own and running her thumbs across her palms. “It is an odd thing as a mother to come to realise others can give your children things you cannot. When they are young they look to you for everything. But you have reached my son where I have failed. For that you will always have my gratitude, and I would ask that you bring him home to me.” 

“I don’t know if I can,” said Darcy, biting back the irrational urge to cry. “I don’t even know where he is.” 

“Oh, I’m sure he will find you. Much as you found the map. As I said, mortals do not set foot in our realm with little purpose. That map was meant to be found, and I believe you were meant to find it. What you will find at the end of it remains to be seen, but I believe you have the capacity for remarkable things.” 

Darcy didn’t feel particularly remarkable. She mostly felt very small, pinned under the age and weight of Frigga’s presence. It was sometimes easy to forget how long the Aesir had lived, but not now. She felt hopelessly out of her depth, and unsure. 

“What if I can’t?” 

Frigga gave her hands a squeeze. “Did I not already say you are welcome here? You will remain so, and remain a friend of my house. You have already done us a service – that will not change. But you must understand: I love my son very much. What kind of mother would I be if I did not try?” She let Darcy’s hands drop. 

Darcy flexed her fingers, which suddenly felt cold without Frigga’s presence. “I’ll try,” she said, her throat feeling dry. “I promise, I’ll try.” 

“That’s all we can do,” Frigga said gently. “And all I ask.” She turned toward the horizon again, sighing. “I have made you miss the sunset. I apologise.” 

“It’s fine,” said Darcy. 

“Perhaps,” replied Frigga. “But I will leave you in peace nonetheless.” 

Darcy stayed there until long after it was dark and her fingers were nearly frozen to the railing from the chill night air. She looked up at the stars and wondered why here, amongst all this splendour, she felt so very small and alone. 

…

She found Thor the next day huddled together with Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun and Sif, with Jane standing slightly to one side looking utterly exasperated. 

“Oh thank _god_ ,” Jane said. “There you are.” She dragged her by the arm over to the huddle. “They’re in full adventure bro mode.” 

“Darcy!” Thor exclaimed good-naturedly. “Splendid. We are making arrangements for our journey.” 

Fandral flung an arm casually around her shoulder so naturally she wondered if it was simply a reflex responding to a female presence. “Yes! It has been far too long since we have ventured out in search of excitement.” 

Darcy shrugged his arm off as politely and she could. “What’s the plan, then?” 

“There has been some discussion about party members,” said Fandral, diplomatically.

“They don’t want us to go,” said Jane, more bluntly. 

“It is no insult to your battle prowess, of course,” Volstagg chimed in. “But true adventure requires an element of danger –“

“I will be there,” said Thor, flatly. “There will be no danger.”

“Then there will be little adventure,” Fandral pointed out, begrudgingly. 

“If my future wife is not welcome –”

And this, apparently, was the sore spot. Which wasn’t surprising, really. An awkward silence fell over the group. 

“I mean, I guess I could stay behind,” said Jane.

“Nonsense,” said Thor, with forced joviality. “Where I go, my future wife is also welcome. Is she not?” 

Fandral seemed to shake himself. “Of course,” he said, placing his hand across his chest and bowing to Jane. “My apologies.” 

“And mine,” added Volstagg, more good-naturedly. “Forgive us, for we were caught up in the folly of our youth. We forget sometimes that our friend is growing up.” He slapped Thor on the shoulder. 

Sif watched all this from behind half-hooded eyes, appearing bored, but when her gaze turned to Darcy she felt its scrutiny like a laser. “And what’s to say we cannot have an adventure with ladies present?” said Sif, teasingly. 

Volstagg and Fandral launched into a series of increasingly elaborate and hilarious apologies to her, which ended with Fandral on one knee while Volstagg was singing some kind of ditty about her warrior prowess with his hands raised up to the heavens. 

Hogun, who seemed both utterly used to and immune to this, simply turned to Thor and said, “and on a more practical note, how do we intend to get there? It was always Loki who sourced the paths for us. Finding gaps between the nine realms was always his speciality. It will be difficult without him.” 

Like a bomb had gone off the whole group fell silent once more. Thor smiled in a way that both looked stretched and pained and said, “I am certain between us we can find a path ourselves.”

“Hogun has a point,” said Fandral, “loathe as I am to admit it. We do not know how to navigate the unmarked expanse, nor what this so-called ‘passage’ has to offer. We cannot follow it if we cannot pass through the front door. He may have been a traitor but he was cursed useful in a pinch.” 

Thor looked dark, while Sif’s expression turned murderous and Volstagg shifted his feet awkwardly. 

“Oh, come now,” Fandral said. 

“Shall we look at the map?” Jane suggested, her tone light but underlined with a tightness that Darcy knew meant her friend was internally freaking the hell out. Which, to be fair, so was Darcy. She wanted nothing more than to tell them all to shut up. 

They pored over the map together, re-reading the directions aloud. Jane shifted her feet beside Darcy, and reached a hand out to grab the map. “What’s this?” she asked.

She tilted the map up to catch the light, running her hand across the blank stretch between the passage and the city. “There’s something here,” she said. “Feel it.” 

Thor gently ran his fingers over the map’s surface, frowning. “There is a pattern,” he admitted. “But it is slight.” 

They tilted it this way and that in the light, but couldn’t make any of it out. 

“Perhaps it’s simply a natural texture to the hide?” Fandral pointed out. 

“I don’t think so,” Jane said, thoughtfully. “It’s only on this section here – and it feels regular, somehow. There must be some way to see it…”

“Maybe we need a different light?” Darcy suggested. 

As one, the group turned to her. “You know,” said Sif, casually, “she might be on to something.”

“Great, thanks,” muttered Darcy. “No need to sound surprised.”

Sif ignored her. “What about Heimdall? He knows more of the realms and their scribal methods than any other on Asgard. Perhaps he will recognise something that might reveal its secrets.” 

“At last!” exclaimed Volstagg. “A good idea.” 

Sif smirked smugly. “My ideas usually are.” 

“Not true,” said Hogun flatly. “I recall our last visit to Muspelheim.”

“That was _not_ my idea –” began Sif, hotly.

“I am certain it was,” said Volstagg. “Thor?”

“It was definitely your idea, Sif,” Thor suggested, chuckling. 

They bickered the rest of the way to the Bifröst. 

“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” said Jane, softly. 

Darcy linked her arm with hers pulling her close. “Why?” 

“I don’t know – they make it sound dangerous. And they have a point, I can’t really defend myself. Neither can you. If something happens…” 

“If something happens Thor will take care of it,” said Darcy. “I mean I’m pretty sure he’d chew his own arm off rather than let anything happen to you.”

“Still…” said Jane, softly. 

“Do you want to go?” Darcy stopped, pulling Jane to a stop with her by the arm and then giving it a gentle, friendly squeeze. “Because if you don’t we definitely don’t have to – I’ll stay here with you.”

“Of course I want to go!” said Jane, throwing her arms out. “Another realm? We could go to _a lost oasis_ , see things no one has seen! A culture entirely untouched for millennia.” 

Darcy chuckled. “I knew it. We’ll be fine. If you want to go, we should go.” 

Jane looked sheepish. “But I feel like we’re spoiling it… by being a liability.” 

“Oh, stuff them,” said Darcy. “They’ve had upteen billion years of farting around to adventure with. Surely we’re allowed one? And I don’t think they will actually mind. It might be nice – you’d be able to get to know them better.” 

“That’s true,” Jane said, tugging at her sleeves nervously. 

“They’ll like you fine. I mean, Thor’s over the moon, and they like Thor – plus they’ve always been nice.” 

“True,” said Jane. 

“Stop worrying. Just have fun,” said Darcy. Then after a pause, she amended, “I realise how stupid it is to ask you to stop worrying. Maybe let’s just worry about how we’re gonna get there instead?” 

Jane chuckled, pulling Darcy to her side and trotting along to catch up with Thor and the others. “I guess that’s as good a thing to worry about as any.” 

“That’s the spirit!” said Darcy, punching the air with her fist. 

“Agreed!” chimed in Fandral, joining them. “Adventure awaits!” 

Jane’s grin grew so wide it seemed to stretch her face. Thor turned back and looked fondly over his shoulder at her. 

“We are here,” he said, ushering Jane up to his side. 

The Bifröst was one of Darcy’s favourite places in Asgard. The great window showed a sky full of stars that seemed close enough to reach out and touch. She nodded politely at Heimdall, whose sharp gaze watched her as she made her way around to the window. 

Thor laid the map flat out in front of Heimdall, and began asking him a series of questions about realms and places Darcy had never heard about. Jane peered curiously over her shoulder the whole while. 

Darcy felt Sif approach her and stand silently next to her looking out at the sky. “I am curious as to what you wish to accomplish on this trip,” said Sif, not mincing her words. “Why do you wish to come?”

“Uh,” said Darcy, stupidly. “Adventure, I guess? I don’t know – I’m just very curious.” 

Sif looked at her appraisingly. “And that is all?” 

Darcy frowned. “Yes, of course. What else?” 

Sif gave an odd half-shrug. “It concerns me that you were the one to find the map. Events set in motion by mortals have a way of becoming… complicated.” 

“What do you mean?” She felt a small shudder pass through her – Frigga had expressed something of a similar sentiment. 

Sif gave the same odd shrugging motion. “Your fates are hard to quantify,” she said. “You are erratic and brief – unpredictable.”

“Do you think this is going to be dangerous?” Darcy pressed. 

“Perhaps,” said Sif. “But that is always a possibility.” 

Darcy turned back out to the stars. “You know, whenever I have a chat with you guys I feel like I’m only understanding maybe half of what’s being said.”

To her surprise, Sif laughed. “I often feel the same.” 

Darcy shot her a lopsided smile. “Well, at least it’s not just me.” 

“No.” Sif held out her arm, and when Darcy offered hers, grasped it in a Roman handshake. “I welcome your presence here. Life has grown dull – and if nothing else, this should certainly not be dull.” 

They were interrupted by Heimdall. The observatory around them began to spin, whirring over Darcy’s head in a great arc and the aperture to view the stars began to close like an iris. Heimdall placed a glass circle, curved like a lens, over the aperture, and stepped back. It was Thor who held the map up to the light – and Jane gasped. 

The starlight reflected bright onto its surface, but even brighter still, silver lines began to appear on the map, small dots joined with thin lines, forming an odd, somewhat irregular pattern of geometric shapes. 

“Well,” said Fandral, “that’s progress.” 

“They’re constellations,” Jane said, reverently. “It’s a star map.” She pulled a notebook out of a pocket and began to quickly sketch them down. 

“We have a map,” said Volstagg, triumphantly. 

“Well, we have a seasonal map,” said Jane. “They move.” She squinted at the page. “It says Midsummer Day.” 

“That is in two weeks on Àlfheim.” 

Hogun gave a low whistle. “That is very little time.” 

“But these stars are on the other side of the passage,” Sif pointed out. “Midsummer might not be at the same time.”

“How can it not be at the same time?” Darcy asked. “I thought the map was of Àlfheim.” 

“It begins on Àlfheim,” said Heimdall. “It leads beyond that.”

“But,” said Darcy, feeling somewhat stupid though not quite sure why, “we’re _walking_ there. Right?”

“It is a tunnel,” said Heimdall, “connecting Àlfheim to another realm, outside the nine.”

“But we’re _walking_ ,” said Darcy. “You can’t _walk_ to another planet.”

The look Heimdall gave her very clearly said you _can_. Jane was looking as bemused as Darcy felt. 

“Splendid,” said Fandral, who didn’t seem bothered by any of this in the slightest. “Shall we leave at first light tomorrow? Midsummer will be upon us quickly.”

“I don’t recognise any of these constellations,” said Jane, looking at her sketch. “We don’t know how long the planet’s orbit takes, or how far this map represents. We could be waiting a long time.” 

“Nonsense,” said Thor, and Jane shot him a look that would have withered a smaller man. Thor was – likely deliberately – oblivious. “I am certain it will be fine.”

“On what grounds?” Jane asked, in exasperation. 

“Well,” said Fandral, “it would be a poor adventure if we were forced to sit for years waiting for the stars to align.” 

The rest nodded as if this was in any way evidence that things were going to turn out fine. 

“But that’s a very real possibility,” said Jane. 

“Nonsense,” echoed Volstagg. “We would not have found the map, so close to Midsummer’s Day, if it were to lead us so astray.” 

“Wait,” said Jane, flatly, “are you suggesting that because we are setting out on an adventure, the universe is going to align to make it more _convenient_?” 

“Pretty much,” said Thor, grinning. 

“But that doesn’t make _sense_!” 

Thor wrapped an arm around her shoulders good-naturedly and began to site examples from their previous exploits that proved the point. The rest of the group began to eagerly chime in. Darcy heard Jane shout, “anecdotal evidence doesn’t prove anything!” as they made their way back across the bridge. 

Darcy lingered awkwardly behind, watching them go. 

“Ask your question,” said Heimdall, his voice low and patient. 

“Do you know where he is?” Darcy asked, unable to make eye contact. 

“He is hidden from my sight, as he has been for many years now. He reappears from time to time, but not now.” 

“Oh,” said Darcy, unable to keep the disappointment from her voice. 

“From what I have seen,” said Heimdall, mildly. “He will find you.” 

A truly horrifying thought crossed Darcy’s mind. “And, uh, what have you, uh, _seen_?”

Heimdall looked amused. “Nothing to be concerned about. As I said, Loki is adept at hiding himself from my sight.” 

“Oh, good,” said Darcy, blushing so furiously she was surprised there was blood still circulating in her body. “Well, that’s just… that’s good.” 

“Frigga is not the only one who would see him returned home,” said Heimdall, unexpectedly. 

“Were you… close?” Darcy asked. 

Heimdall looked out across the sea of stars. “We have long memories. Loki has done much harm, but also much good. You will find few here who do not also remember him as he once was.” 

“Do you… do you think he’ll come back?” 

Heimdall’s piercing gaze turned to her. “You are in a better position to answer that than I.” 

She didn’t exactly _run away_ , but after a rushed thank you, her exit was fairly hasty. When she’d caught up with the group Fandral gave her an odd look, but she simply avoided his gaze and walked purposefully back towards the city. 

…

“This is silly,” she said aloud. She was holding the pressed carnation Loki had given her on Vanaheim in her hand, standing in a raggedy old t-shirt she was using as pyjamas. She put it under pillow. 

Then she pulled it back out and put it on the bedside table. She blew out the lamps and stared up at the dark ceiling for what felt like at least ten minutes before she cracked and shoved the flower roughly back under her pillow. 

“This isn’t going to work,” she muttered. 

It seemed like hours before she drifted off, lying in the dark tossing and turning and wondering – jumping at every small noise. But at some point she must have fallen asleep, because Loki was sitting at the foot of her bed looking bemused. 

She sat up, tugging the covers up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her knees. “Hi,” she said. 

He blinked slowly. 

“You called me,” he said, at last. 

Wordlessly, she pulled the flower out from under her pillow and dropped it on the bed. He picked it up, turning it over and over in his long, nimble fingers. 

“Are you… injured?” he asked, at last, looking her over. He placed the flower carefully on her bedside table.

“What? No,” she said. “I just…” 

He narrowed his eyes, then stood up, pacing around the room. “Why have you called me here?” He walked briskly around the room, peering out the window and popping his head out the door, looking for all the world like a skittish animal. 

Darcy frowned. “Where are you? What have you been doing?”

He looked sharply at her. “Why do you wish to know?” 

“Because you’re acting weirder than usual?” Darcy asked. She threw the covers aside and stood, leaning against the bedpost. “Are you alright?” 

“ _Why_ have you called me here?” he asked, sharply. He crossed the room and stood before her. His arms reached out as if he were about to grab her shoulders but he seemed to think better of it and he let them fall to his sides. 

“I missed you, alright?” she said, flatly. “I just… I missed you. Which is stupid because there was a definite point in time when I would have literally _paid_ to get rid of you, but here we are. And everyone here keeps _talking_ to me about you, and I don’t know what to do because I don’t think I actually know you at _all_ and I don’t want to let anyone down and –“

She was suddenly enveloped in his arms, pulled tight against his chest, and she felt his hands tangle in her hair. He shifted against her, turning his face closer to her and burying it in her hair. His thumb stretched out and traced lazy circles over her cheek. 

“It’s so awkward,” she mumbled against his chest. “Being here – everyone knows.” 

Loki snorted, and she felt the gust of his breath, warm against her scalp. “Asgard is full as ever of busybodies,” he said. “It is, after all, something of an insular community.” 

“I’m coming to realise that,” she said. She snorted, and curled her fingers against his leather jerkin. “Small town syndrome, in space.”

He tucked her head underneath his chin for a moment, and they stood there in silence. Then, Loki released her, stepping back, and she felt his fingers trail down her arm as he let his hands fall once again to his sides. 

“I often felt watched in Asgard – as a child of the king my actions were naturally under scrutiny. However with so few of us, it was impossible to go anywhere without being recognised, watched and often, without having my behaviour reported back to Odin.”

“That sounds… intense,” Darcy said, carefully. 

His eyes glinted with dark humour as he looked at her. “Indeed,” he said, sardonically. “Nevertheless, it had its benefits: it was a desire to escape from Asgard that led to my cultivation of the knowledge of secret paths and magical arts of concealment.”

“Yeah?” Darcy asked wryly. “How’s that working out for you?” 

He looked singularly unimpressed. “Regardless of what you may think, it served me many times as a useful skill. It made me useful to Thor’s friends, if nothing else. And for a time it gave me peace.” 

As if she couldn’t stop herself she asked, “Were you ever happy?” 

He looked contemplative. “Perhaps, once. But that was a long time ago. Before I began to realise certain truths.” 

She opened her mouth to speak but he waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, not my parentage, although that was by far the greatest lie of all. Truths about my place in the world – always second best, second son. Always an appendage.” 

She swallowed thickly, uncomfortable with how closely Loki’s words mirrored his mother’s and wishing, impulsively and probably childishly, that she could just bring the two of them together to talk it out. After all, she knew from experience that Loki wasn’t usually the talkative type. 

“I don’t think –“ 

“Kindly hold your opinions on events you held no part in. You have seen very little of my family and Thor’s entourage. Do not pretend to know them as well as I.” 

She sighed, and watched as Loki’s expression closed off and he wrapped his pride around him like a cloak. 

She settled for changing the subject. “I feel a bit useless here. Or, at least, like I’m in the way. Jane’s busy and I’m not really sure what to do with myself most of the time.” She said, at last. 

“Oh, I suspect you’ll find something suitably infuriating eventually,” he said. “You usually do.” 

“I think you’re the only person who finds me infuriating,” she said flatly, sitting back down on the bend and crossing her legs. “And it’s not exactly a compliment.” 

“It wasn’t intended to be one,” he said, perching primly on a side table and crossing his arms. “Living with it was not a pleasant experience.” 

“Wow, thanks,” she said, drily, flopping backwards onto her back. 

He made a dismissive gesture. “Fortunately you have other qualities. Why are you here?” 

“What do you mean?”

He looked at her like she was an idiot. “In Asgard. If you find it so awkward.” 

“For Jane,” she said, in the same you’re-a-complete-imbecile tone. “She wanted me here.”

His face screwed up in a scowl. “And you go where she says?”

“She’s a friend, so yeah, I do.” 

“Well then you must face the consequences,” he said. “I don’t know what you expect me to do about it.”

“I don’t expect –“ she started furiously, sitting back up. She barely repressed the urge to throw the pillow at his stupid, smug face. “I don’t expect you to do anything. I’m sorry if my feelings are such a terrible inconvenience.” 

Loki looked a bit blindsided, but also like he wasn’t going to back down. 

“Anyway,” she continued, loudly. “I won’t be on Asgard for very long. We’re going on an adventure.”

“What?” He crossed the room, half throwing himself off the table. He stood, towering over her. “Where?” 

“Jesus, calm down.” She scuttled back on the bed. “I don’t know. I found a map – leading to a place called Steinn-something or other.” 

“ _Steinnleyndur_?” 

“Yeah,” she said. “Do you know it?” 

“I have never been,” he said, sitting down heavily next to her on the bed. “No one has. Thor and I once intended to go. It is a mysterious place – little record of it exists beyond this map.” 

“Yeah, Thor said.” 

Loki’s eyes flashed darkly. “Why are you going?” 

“Fun?” She shrugged. “I found the map in the library. I want to see what’s there.” 

“Thor is a fool,” Loki spat. “It is not safe.” 

“I’m sure we’ll be fine. Thor’s coming after all.” 

Loki’s eyes flashed dangerous. “Do not goad me.”

“Or what?” she asked. “You’ll hurt me?”

He recoiled as if she’d slapped him. “Why do you persist on mentioning Thor to me?”

“Why not? He is my friend.” 

“And I am not?”

“Oh, don’t get petty,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Loki, I think I’ve made it perfectly obvious that I care about what happens to you. Don’t turn this into a pissing contest.” 

He seemed somewhat mollified at this.

“Nevertheless,” he repeated, “It is not safe. Even if Thor –” he seemed to almost spit his brother’s name “– is going, especially if it was _you_ who found the map.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” 

He frowned. “Who is ‘ _everyone_ ’?” 

“Your mother, and Sif.”

“She is not –“

“Yeah, not your mother,” said Darcy. “I know. That’s definitely not what she says.” 

Loki’s voice was tight with anger, and he seemed to be grinding words out through his teeth. “Stay out of things you do not understand.”

“I’d love to,” said Darcy sharply. “But _Frigga_ keeps bringing it to me.” 

That seemed to stop him short, and he looked taken aback, almost childish with surprise. 

“Frigga spoke to you of me?” 

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “I think that’s why I wound up calling you. I – She –“ 

“What does she want?” he asked, bitterly. 

“She wants you to come home,” Darcy said. 

He stood, and said flatly, “so that’s it, then. Frigga sends you to do her dirty work.” 

“No, what the _fuck_? No.” She stood up, and put her hand on his forearm, pressing her fingers against his pulse point. “No, I’m not – Look, I’m not going to try and make you do anything you don’t want to. She was just worried about you, and… it made me worried. Look, you can go. It’s fine.”

Loki was staring down at her fingers wrapped around his forearm. “I don’t understand this,” he said. “I don’t understand _you_.” 

“I don’t really understand why it’s so complicated,” she said.

“You asked me to leave.” He pried her fingers off his arm, tangling their fingers together briefly before letting go. 

“I asked for space,” Darcy said. “But I also recall you saying you’d come back. It’s been nearly a year.” 

Loki frowned. “Perhaps I was unclear on how much time you needed – I have not yet completed all that I need to. Should I have returned?” 

“I don’t know.” Darcy threw her arms up. “Maybe? Yes? It would have been nice to know you were still alive. Maybe the occasional ‘hi, how are you?’”

He looked at her wearily. “I cannot come to you in Asgard.” 

“No, fair enough. When I get back from this adventure, when I’m home, maybe we could meet?” 

Loki looked pensive. Then, like the winds changing his mood seemed to lift. He flashed her a cheeky grin. “Perhaps.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I had no idea you missed me so terribly.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Darcy said, flatly. 

He was burying his nose in her hair, and she could feel his breath against her ear, raising her skin in goosebumps all over. “Oh, no, but you flatter _me_ so well.” 

She shoved at him, and he laughed, circling around her to run his hands down her shoulders and press a gentle, teasing kiss to the back of her neck. Almost on impulse her head fell back to rest against his shoulder, pressing back against him. 

“I apologise,” he said, and she stopped short, whirling around in surprise. 

“I apologise,” he repeated. “I did not mean to worry you.” 

She stared open-mouthed at him until he began to scowl. “Surely it is not that remarkable to hear me apologise.”

“Pretty sure it is,” she said, gathering her wits back around her. “Pretty sure I have literally never heard that before.”

“Very funny.”

“No, hang on, I’ve gotta write this down. Do you think I could have this in writing? No one is ever gonna believe me.” 

He grabbed at her as she scuttled about the room pretending to look for paper. “Do you wish me to completely abase myself, then? To beg?” 

“No,” she replied. “Just don’t be an ass.” Then after a beat she added. “Well, as much as you can.” 

His smile was somewhat bitter, and he gave an odd, mocking bow. 

“What did you mean when you said it was dangerous that I’d found the map?” Darcy asked. 

“Frigga did not explain?” Loki asked.

“No.” 

He sighed, and sat down on the bed. “Are you familiar with the Norns?” he asked. 

Darcy frowned. “Yeah, they tell the future, right?”

“That is something of a simplification,” Loki said. “But broadly speaking, yes. They extrapolate likely futures – or create them.”

“Extrapolate?” 

“Guessing at a probable future is child’s play if you have enough data,” Loki said. “The Norns are able to predict likely outcomes to any event – except, notably, where mortals are involved. Here they become more erratic, and more invasive.”

“Why?” 

Loki shrugged. “I suspect it is a question of data. The Aesir are long lived, as are the other races of the nine realms. We have made many decisions over a long period of time – we are, in essence, predictable. But you,” he gave her an amused half-smile, “are utterly unpredictable. Your kind appear and disappear, constantly breeding and dying. You are like fruit flies, gone in a day. The Norns find you hard to predict – and so, when our paths cross, they tend to interfere.” 

“I’m not a fruit fly,” said Darcy.

“No,” said Loki, musingly. He reached out, touching the back of her fingers with his own very gently, as if he were about to grab her hand, and then dropping his hand back into his lap. “You are not.” 

Darcy’s heart was racing a mile-a-minute, and her fingers tingled where he’d touched them. It had been so long, so _long_ – and it was oddly chaste, especially given their previous encounters. He was staring down at his lap, looking lost in thought, and she barely restrained the impulse to run her hands gently through his hair. 

He seemed to shake himself out of something of a stupor. “However,” he said, looking up at her. “The Norns always take an interest when a mortal sets us in motion – and it does not always turn out well.” 

“So you really think it could be dangerous?” she asked. 

“I think Thor is sufficiently self-assured to assume it won’t be,” said Loki. “He did always have a high opinion of himself.” 

Darcy sat on the bed beside him, crossing her legs and tucking her feet up underneath her. Loki’s gaze was locked on the hem of her shirt as it rode up her leg, and she could see his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. 

“But, what could possibly happen that he couldn’t handle?” 

Loki flashed her a vaguely disgusted look. “Go, then,” he said, looking away. “Enjoy your grand adventure.” 

“That’s not what I meant –”

“I know what you meant,” he said, sharply.

“Do you have to be so damn prickly?” she asked. “I’m sick of arguing.” 

“Then go,” he said, heavily. “Go explore Steinnleyndur with Thor the Mighty.” 

“I don’t need your permission –”

“Certainly not,” he said, mockingly. 

“Could you just stop?”

“What?” he demanded, sharply. “Stop _what_?” 

“Flying off the handle.” She threw her arms out in exasperation. “All I want to know is if I go on this trip, am I going to die? Because I’m not really interested in decorating space with my corpse, if it’s all the same to you, when I could be staying home and doing living things like breathing and not being dead and, apparently, arguing with you just because I have the audacity to be friends with someone you hate. I’m not going to treat Thor like crap just because I know you.” 

“He is rash,” said Loki, quietly, sitting eerily still. “And reckless. And perhaps underestimates your fragility.” Then, as if swallowing something vile, he added, “but he is an exceedingly competent fighter and would not willingly or knowingly allow you to come to harm. You are… safe with him.” 

“I think _you_ overestimate my fragility.” 

“I have done so in the past,” said Loki. “It is likely I will do so again. But nonetheless, you are relatively defenceless, and the universe is very vast. Pocket realms, like the one you intend to visit, are volatile, and unwatched worlds, and the paths you must take to get there come always at a price.” 

“What kind of price?” 

“That remains to be seen,” he replied, enigmatically. 

Darcy swallowed, tucking her knees up to her chest. “I wish you were coming.”

Loki let out a hollow bark of laughter at that. “I doubt I would be welcome.” 

“I don’t know…” She rested her chin on her knee and deliberately avoided eye contact. “Before I came here I would have probably agreed, now I’m not so sure.” 

He sat silently and still beside her for a long moment, then, as if reaching some unvoiced conclusion, he abruptly stood and offered her his hand. She took it, and in one smooth motion he pulled her to her feet and then flush up against him.

“As you wish,” he said, with a grin.

Then, abruptly he caught her mouth with his. In an instant it all came flooding back, every way he’d made her feel, the raw, helpless desperation of his kisses – like a man afraid that each one would be his last. She had just begun to tangle her hands in his hair, pressing herself up against the long, lean line of his body when he broke the kiss. 

“See you soon,” he said, grinning wickedly. 

The world around them began to dissolve, and Darcy sat up with a start in her bed. 

“Well, _fuck_ ,” she said out loud to her empty room.


	2. The Price

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which no one has any fun on this adventure at all, and it turns out walking to another planet is precisely as trippy as it sounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to the world's most wonderful beta [amidtheflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amidtheflowers/pseuds/amidtheflowers), whose endlessly sensible advice runs all through the chapter and who never fails to sort out my nonsense into something actually comprehensible. 
> 
> A thank you, as well, to everyone who commented or left kudos on this fic already - and a massive thank you for sticking around through my habitual bullshit.

Álfheim turned out to be both as wonderful and as irritating as the last time Darcy had visited (though she was very resolutely trying not to think about how _that_ had turned out). It turned out that the elves were equally as lively, un-serious and utterly infuriating as they had been during Hallowe’en all the time.

The Bifröst had put them down on the outskirts of town – although town seemed to be a fairly liberal interpretation of what Darcy was now standing in. Houses appeared to be stuck at random onto every natural feature of the landscape – built between the branches of trees, built into the sides of the hills, and dug (in one memorable case) straight down, as she’d found out when she’d nearly stepped on someone’s front door. There seemed to be little in the way of rhyme or reason to it, and the streets meandered wildly up and over hills, through underground tunnels, and up into the treetops, constantly forking and bending until Darcy was so turned around she had to resort to simply trailing along behind Thor and Jane and make sure she didn’t lose sight of them.

And _everywhere_ there was singing.

It was difficult not to draw the parallel between their group and a pile of lost tourists too proud to ask for directions arguing over a map. The problem was, really, that the directions were somewhat vague.

“Start at the falls and walk two and a quarter leagues north-east until you come to a bent oak tree with twice-forked branches. Which falls?”

Simultaneously, Volstagg and Fandral pointed at waterfalls in opposite directions. One of them had a house perched merrily atop it, water pouring furiously on either side of it, accessible by a terrifyingly slim looking rope bridge.

“Couldn’t we just… ask?” Darcy asked, tentatively.

They looked around. A nearby gaggle of elves seemed to have started up an impromptu choir session while dragging water from a well, while another pair seemed to be having some sort of race through the treetops above their heads.

“It might be advisable to spread out and look for someone sensible,” said Fandral. “Meet back here in an hour?”

Sif nodded, then looked pointedly at Fandral. “Keep your questions pointed and do not spread our business far and wide.”

“Me?” He threw a hand across his heart, looking wounded. “Grant me a modicum of intelligence, Sif. I know better than to mention the map.”

“It seems impossible not to,” said Thor. “How else can we ask for directions?”

“Say we’re looking for a friend of ours who gave us vague directions, obviously,” said Fandral. “We only need mention the steps to the first landmark – once there we should be able to make our own way.”

Darcy looked incredibly dubious at that. If the instructions to the first landmark were any indication, they were almost certainly going to wind up wandering around the countryside like lost ducklings. Meeting Jane’s eyes, she was fairly sure she wasn’t the only one of this opinion. The others, however, seemed to find this good enough.

“Are the elves always like this?” Jane asked Thor, looking around curiously. “I mean… how do they get anything _done_?”

“They move at their own pace,” said Thor, sagely. “And have crafted great works in their time – though, admittedly,” he added, looking around, “we do not seem to have caught them at their best.”

“Are we _sure_ this is the right place, Thor?” asked Volstagg, heaving his axe over his shoulder and looking around.

Thor gave an odd half-shrug. “Heimdall seemed to think so.”

“Well, I suppose he ought to know,” said Volstagg, sounding dubious.

“Better than we,” Fandral said, giving him a slap on the back, and the two of them peeled off in one direction, following a path that seemed to lead right through a hedgerow. Sif and Hogun took off in the opposite direction, leaving Darcy, Jane and Thor to head onwards.

…

It turned out that elves in general had both a curiously intimate knowledge of seemingly every single tree on Álfheim, and an infinite capacity to argue about their precise location. Sensibly (at least to their minds), Volstagg and Fandral had headed straight for the closest tavern.

The landlord appeared to have some idea what they were talking about when they described ‘a bent oak tree with twice-forked branches’ but was immediately embroiled in a discussion with at least three of his patrons about precisely where that tree was located, and what rock it was near and which was the quickest way to get there.

Volstagg took the not-very-subtle suggestion by the proprietor that they use this discussion time to buy more wine.

“No, no, no, you’re thinking of the _elm_ ,” said one of the elves to Fandral’s left, spilling some of his wine as he made a gesture which seemed to be meant to replicate the forked branches of an elm. “The one past the bend in the stream where there are three rocks.”

“Not the easiest place to navigate,” commented Volstagg.

“Few people bother,” admitted the landlord. “Why are you looking for this tree again?”

“We are meeting a friend,” said Volstagg. “A friend who really ought to have been more specific.”

“Ah,” said one of the elves. “Yes. He was here yesterday.”

This threw both Volstagg and Fandral. Fandral cleared his throat. “Oh?” was about all he could manage.

A couple of the other elves nodded. “We don’t get many Aesir around here. He came in yesterday. Sat reading in the corner – wouldn’t sing; very odd.”

Volstagg’s eyes narrowed. “What did he look like?”

“Oh, you know,” said the elf. “Like you.”

Fandral looked at Volstagg, taking in his beard and his girth, and then back to himself. “Like which one of us?” he asked, politely.

“Oh, both,” said the elf, blithely. “Dark hair, quite pale. Dressed in dark colours.”

“That doesn’t look like _either_ of us,” exclaimed Fandral.

The elf simply shrugged. “If you say so,” he said, thoroughly unconvinced.

Volstagg’s lips thinned. “It does, however, sound like someone we know. We’d better get back to Thor.”

The elves waved them merrily on their way, still arguing about which tree they’d meant the whole while. Volstagg drained his wine, and then Fandral’s. Under Fandral’s disapproving glance he simply said, “If Loki truly is here, I’m going to need that.”

“You could have left me mine,” Fandral said bitterly. “I am no more enthused than you.”

They stepped, blinking, back out into the sunlight and set off at a brisk pace to find Thor before Loki did.

…

Darcy was thoroughly lost by this point, but Thor walked forward purposefully with the stride of someone who seemed to think they had the situation under control, so that seemed good enough for her. Àlfheim had a dream-like quality that meant as they meandered through the twisting paths, it seemed to be both endless and like being trapped in a continuous loop all at once. She felt certain she’d passed the same waterfall at least twice.

She was walking behind Thor, carefully crossing a rock-path through a stream when her foot slipped. Her boot had barely touched the cold water of the river before she was caught, long slim fingers wrapping firmly around her elbow, and pulled across the river. One of the elves was smiling down at her, his long, blond hair seeming to almost blend into the bright sunlight on the leaves of the canopy above their heads. She felt herself blushing.

“Thank you,” she said.

His fingers slowly uncurled from around her arm, and he smiled widely. “Think nothing of it!” he exclaimed, jovially. He caught her hand in his, pressing the backs of her fingers to his lips. His kiss was dry and warm and in other circumstances would have felt cheesy as anything, but Darcy only felt her blush deepen. She was fairly certain he winked at her, but then, abruptly, he seemed to straighten, his eyes widening. He dropped her hand immediately, and then gave an odd sort of nod, before turning to leave.

Darcy swallowed, the skin at the back of her neck beginning to prickle as she felt someone stand close behind her.

“Why is it,” a familiar voice drawled, “I always find you wandering alone and getting into trouble?”

She whirled around and smacked Loki across the chest. His eyes widened, and he stumbled back in surprise.

“What are you _doing_ here?” she hissed, furiously. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Thor had somehow managed to miss the entire thing and was now well ahead up the path with Jane. She could _feel_ Loki’s gaze follow hers, boring into Thor’s back. Slowly, as if it took great effort to look away, he looked back down at her.

“I heard you were going on a grand adventure,” he said flatly.

“They’ll _see_ you,” she said in a panicked whisper, shoving him towards a nearby hedge that she was fairly sure was in someone’s front lawn.

Loki plucked her hands off his chest, running his thumbs across the back of her hand twice in a soothing motion. “That is rather the point,” he said, sounding amused. “I could hardly come with you if they didn’t.”

“No,” said Darcy, trying to tug her hands back out of his grip. ”No, no. No, that’s a terrible plan. That’s the worst plan I’ve ever heard.”

“Oh, come now,” said Loki. “Surely not – it was your plan, after all. Besides, you’ve heard of Thor’s plans to marry that mortal.”

She squeezed her nails into the backs of his hands as hard as she could. “Don’t be an asshole,” she said. “Her name is Jane.”

“And I look forward to getting to know her better,” Loki said, blithely. “If nothing else, she runs contrary to my brother’s usual type, which is at least interesting.”

“I – what?” Darcy asked.

“Thor usually prefers women with greater… _assets_ ,” Loki said.

“That’s… please don’t ever say that again. I am ignoring this entire conversation, and this hare-brained plan of yours. Sif and the Warriors Three are here as well, you know.”

“Ah, yes,” said Loki, mockingly. “Your guard for this expedition!”

“I’m being _serious_ –“

“As am I,” said Loki. “After all, amends must begin somewhere, must they not? Why not with those who once called me friend?”

Darcy stepped back. “Amends? You’re serious.”

“I am always serious,” he said. “But, yes, in this case – I will be accompanying you, and all those that travel with you.”

“Loki, I –“ Darcy swallowed. “Are you sure about this? Why now?”

His lips thinned and he crossed his arms somewhat defensively, seeming to almost fold in on himself. “Well,” he said, the forced lightness in his tone utterly at odds with his posture, “I can hardly let Thor take all the glory of discovering Steinnleyndur on his own. Besides,” he added, his tone taking on a bitter edge, “they can hardly refuse. I will be needed if you plan to take the paths between the realms.” 

She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “Well, I suppose you’d better tell him then.”

“Come along then,” he said, imperiously, setting off along the path after Thor.

Darcy felt a little bit like she was going to be sick with nerves, if she were honest, as she followed along behind him. Her heart was racing so fast she could hear it thudding in her ears. Loki seemed to sense her anxiety, and he reached back wordlessly to take her hand in his.

Thor hadn’t managed to get too far ahead. Darcy ripped her hand out of Loki’s the second he came into view, and Loki shot her a sharp, hurt look.

“Thor!” called Loki.

Thor stopped immediately, his back ramrod straight. Jane whirled around with a shriek.

“Greetings _brother_ ,” said Loki, and the smile he gave reminded Darcy strongly of a shark bearing down on its prey.

“What are you doing here?” Jane snapped.

“A fair question,” Thor said, his voice level. He slowly turned to face Loki. “What brings you here?”

“Adventure, of course,” said Loki. He flung an arm around Darcy’s shoulders, and she felt uncomfortably weighted down and caught between them. Thor’s fingers twitched at his sides, but his hands remained open and at rest.

“And how,” asked Thor, his eyes sliding to Darcy, “did you know where to find us?”

Loki shifted, pulling Darcy away from Thor and half-blocking his gaze with his body. “What, brother, am I no longer welcome? You promised we would find it together, once.”

“That was long ago,” said Thor. “Much has changed.”

“We have,” Loki admitted. “Nevertheless, you need my help. And I offer it to you – on one condition.”

“Which is?” Thor asked.

“I go where Darcy goes. You convince Sif and the others to allow me passage with you as long as she is part of this little expedition.”

“Why her?” Jane asked, sharply. “What do you know what we don’t?”

Loki’s gaze slowly moved to Jane’s face, and Darcy was fairly sure he was trying to deliberately make her feel like she’d intruded into the conversation. “I know nothing that Thor does not already know, even if he is blindly choosing to ignore it. _She_ found the map.”

“Thor, I really don’t think this is a good idea,” said Jane. “I’m sorry – but can we really trust him?”

“You _need_ me,” cut in Loki. Then, he looked pointedly at Jane. “Would you be prepared to risk all of them on a foolish scheme you are unprepared to face, just to make a point?”

Thor nodded sharply, stiff like he was doing it almost against his own will. “Very well,” he said. “We have an accord.” He reached out and Loki grasped his hand – they shook once, firmly, and then almost immediately let go.

“Splendid,” said Loki. “This is going to be _such_ fun.”

Jane’s eyes, wide with panic, met Darcy’s over Thor’s shoulder.

…

It took nearly an hour of cajoling to get everyone somewhere in the vicinity of ‘on-board’, though judging by the death glares everyone was still sporting this was really more of a temporary truce than anything.

Loki’s constant, biting sarcasm hadn’t particularly helped. But – and Darcy was beginning to think that she’d somewhat underestimated either the difficulty of their journey or Loki’s particular skillset, or most likely both – as the only thing everyone seemed to be able to agree on was the fact that Loki was almost certainly going to be a major asset to this venture, and one worth paying for.

But they weren’t going to be happy about it.

They’d set off out of town together, Loki out in front (a distance in front that seemed to be the perfect point between being as far away from the group as possible without actually being out of sight), Hogun in the rear, and the rest spread out in-between. Loki claimed to have scouted out the location previously – and, while Fandral seemed entirely reluctant to let Loki actually _hold_ it, – after a cursory look at the map he set off purposefully, expecting the rest of them to fall in line.

Jane, meanwhile, stuck to Darcy’s side like a burr, casting constant worried glances at her and wrapping her arm around Darcy’s to pull her close.

“What’s going on?” she asked in a sotto voice.

Darcy swallowed. “Oh, come on, Darce,” said Jane. “He’s obviously here because of you – he said as much. What’s going on?”

“Oh my god, I have no idea,” said Darcy. “This is all my fault.”

“Have you been in contact with him?” Jane asked.

“No,” said Darcy. “Once – when I found the map. I called him, because of something Frigga had said to me.”

Jane looked at her like she’d grown a second head. “ _Frigga_ talks to you about Loki?”

“Yeah,” said Darcy. “I’ve felt so awkward about the whole thing – like everyone knows that he and I… you know. And everyone’s looking at me…”

“I’m sure they aren’t,” said Jane, though she didn’t sound particularly sure. “I mean, you’re obviously still welcome in Asgard.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Darcy. “Frigga was very clear about that. It was nice, actually. Kinda sweet? I mean, I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m pretty sure I’m in way over my head, but she seemed nice about it?”

“Do you… do you need help?” Jane asked, tentatively. “I’m sure Thor…”

“No,” said Darcy. “I mean, I’m worried this is all going to blow up in our faces, and that at least one of them is going to pick a fight with him – or more likely vice versa – and it’s all going to go to hell in a handbasket, but I’m not worried about Loki. I don’t know him well – I’m not going to pretend I do – but I do know that I’m… safe with him. Safe from him.”

Jane still looked sceptical.

“Trust me on this,” said Darcy. “I mean, he might get me into situations that are dangerous, but he isn’t going to hurt me – and he’ll do his best to get me out of them.” She waved a hand in his general direction. “I mean, isn’t that what’s happening now?”

“Why is he so insistent?” Jane asked.

“I don’t know,” Darcy said. “You could always ask him?”

“Not that curious,” Jane said, vehemently.

“A sentence I thought I’d never hear.” Darcy grinned.

Jane smiled, and finally seemed to start to relax. “So, you think he really is here to help?”

“Yeah, I do,” said Darcy. “He was talking about making amends.”

Jane’s eyes widened. “Amends? Really?” She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “I know that ultimately that is what Thor wants – he’s the only one who ever seems to talk about Loki, and I know he misses him. But… I worry it’s just going to wind up with him getting hurt. Again.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, quietly.

“I mean you saw him in New Mexico – he was prepared to _kill_ Thor.”

“I haven’t forgotten, Jane,” said Darcy, her throat tight. “I haven’t – but I think they should probably talk. I think it would do them both good.”

“I hope so,” Jane said quietly. “If not… this is going to be ugly.”

Ahead of them, Loki came to an abrupt stop. They came into a clearing, under ten yards in diameter, filled with fairy rings. Bright red mushrooms dotted the grass like flowers, forming an odd pattern of circles on the ground before them.

“Why have we stopped?” asked Sif, her hand going to the sword kept on her back.

“We are here,” said Loki, somewhat ominously.

“Here?” asked Jane, stepping forwards. “There’s nothing here.” She took another step, inside one of the fairy rings.

Loki’s eyes widened, and he made an abortive motion to reach for her. The ground crumpled beneath Jane’s feet, seeming to come alive, rising up to grab her legs. Darcy could see thick, white tendrils of fungus, wrapping around Jane’s knees pulling her down.

“Jane!” she shrieked.

Jane reached for her hand, and their fingertips brushed just once before, in a quick drop, she disappeared into the earth. Thor came skidding to a halt where Jane had just been, and then he, just as quickly, was grabbed and sucked down after her.

“Damn,” said Loki, under his breath.

“He’s betrayed us,” said Hogun, sharply, pulling out his weapon. Darcy took an automatic step back, and into one of the rings.

All at once the whole clearing seemed to burst into horrible, roiling life, the ground shifting and moving like waves, and everywhere a deep, damp earthy smell filled her nose.

The last thing Darcy saw was Loki, his hand outstretched towards her, his eyes wide, as she was sucked downwards into the earth.

…

Thor stirred slowly, and coughed, his mouth full of dirt. He spat it out, his nose filled with a horrible earthy smell. Jane was lying beside him, face down, and he pulled her upright, brushing the earth from her face.

“Jane? _Jane_?”

She came-to, coughing. Thor lifted her upright, pulling her hair back from her face.

“Where are we?” she asked, in a scratchy voice.

“With any luck, in the passage,” said Thor, looking around grimly. They were in a thin tunnel, wet and damp, and Thor could see thin veins of white above their head running which lit the passage with a dim, pale glow. Long tendrils dipped down, and when he pulled Jane to her feet, keeping one arm wrapped around her shoulder for support, they seemed to tangle in his hair and catch on his armour.

“We must find the others,” Thor said.

“Yes, but which way?” Jane asked. “Are we even sure they’re down here too?”

Thor took a few steps back, swinging Mjolnir in a quick arc and then up at the ceiling. Jane threw her arms over her head to protect herself from the rain of dirt that came down. Which she emerged, blinking, Thor was looking nonplussed, staring up at an intact ceiling.

“Huh,” he said.

“We’re trapped?” Jane asked, her voice high with panic.

Thor took her hand and entwined the fingers comfortingly. “No,” he said. “I am certain this is the passage the map spoke of – Loki said as much. We merely need to find the others and then the exit.”

“Loki also lead us into a field which trapped us here. Are you sure he actually meant to help us?”

Thor’s fingers tightened around Jane’s but he said nothing. Jane swallowed, and moved a little closer to Thor.

Around them she could hear low murmuring voices, seeming to come from all directions at once. It was beyond unnerving, somewhere closer to the vicinity of spine-chilling, and she kept feeling like she was catching glimpses of eerie shapes out the corner of her eye. But every time she whipped around to catch them, they seemed to be only shadows.

There was no real light to speak of, only the faint light from up above, which seemed to fade in and out as they walked. They ran their free hands along the walls, which felt cold and almost slimy under Jane’s fingers, to check for side passages as they went.

“What do you think has happened to the others?”

Thor looked back at her, and she could just make out his face in the dim light. “With any luck, they will have passed safely through the tunnels with Loki and we will meet them on the other side.”

“Do you really think that’s likely?” Jane asked, dubiously.

Thor looked grim. “I find it a more pleasant prospect than contemplating the alternatives,” he said, finally.

Jane gave his fingers a squeeze.

“How far do you think it is?” Jane asked, changing the subject.

“Not very,” said Thor, but she knew him well enough to know false bravado when she heard it. Trying very, very hard not to complain, she simply marched on.

It was easy to think that Thor was naïve about his brother, but as Jane watched the ramrod straightness of his back as they walked she began to realise that wasn’t a particularly fair assessment. She felt sick with worry for Darcy. She hadn’t seen what had happened to the others, but she wasn’t above believing that Loki had deliberately separated them. And if he had, then why?

One look at Thor’s stony expression and she thought better of asking. But she had little else to do as they walked but think about it – and silently hope that everyone else was better off than they were.

They walked for what felt like hours to Jane (and to her feet, which were beginning to hurt), when up ahead of them the passage seemed to widen and lighten, still lit by the pale glow which washed everything out in a sickly grey. The path widened into a small chamber, only a few yards across, with an exit straight ahead of them. Here the tendrils seemed to snake down through the walls, and mushrooms grew in odd patterns around the walls. A large, broad-shouldered figure stood, blocking the passage.

It wasn’t until they’d almost entered the chamber that Jane realised it was Thor. Thor – her Thor – dropped her hand and pushed her behind him, his other hand gripping Mjolnir.

“You may pass,” said the second Thor.

Thor stood up straight, giving Mjolnir a faux-casual half-twist in his hand. “Thank you,” he said.

Together they walked forward. The second Thor stepped out of the way, but then placed his hand between them, blocking Jane’s path. “She may not,” he said.

“Ah,” said Thor, mildly. “Then we have a problem. Step back, Jane.”

She did, precipitously.

The false Thor had pale skin, marred with dark veins. He smelt as damp and earthy as the passage itself, and his hand, where it had touched Jane’s chest, was cold.

Thor swung Mjolnir in a great arc, and the false Thor simply reached up and stopped it, his hand wrapping around the head of Mjolnir. Jane could see Thor’s muscles straining against him, but it seemed Mjolnir’s unstoppable force had finally found an immovable object.

“Why?” Jane asked. “Why can’t I pass?”

“You cannot pay the price,” said the false Thor. “He can.”

“What price?” Thor grunted out, still straining against him. Mjolnir was slowly being brought down, twisted out of Thor’s grip.

“Maybe we can come to some kind of agreement?” suggested Jane.

“No agreement. No bargaining.”

The false Thor released Mjolnir at once, and Thor stumbled forwards. The ground again came up to meet up, breaking apart beneath his feet, and the false Thor seemed to crumble, falling on top of Thor as he did and burying him. Jane’s fingers wrapped around his wrist, tugging him upwards, and he held on with as much strength as he could afford without shattering the bones of her arm. But the downward pull was too strong, and he felt himself ripped from her hand and dragged down into the deep.

He could hear her shriek as he fell.

…

Darcy was lost. Darcy had transcended lost. Darcy was so lost she’d very nearly forgotten where she started from, where she was going, or what it was like to feel even remotely un-lost. She’d passed through tunnel after tunnel – at first calling out to her friends, hoping someone was going to hear. She’d settled for telepathically thinking very hard and very furiously at Loki in the hope that he had some kind of magic homing beacon that would work for this sort of thing – but to utterly no avail.

Eventually, she’d given up, and settled for trudging along morosely and hoping that at some point she’d find a way out. She contemplated unravelling one of her sweaters in her bag to leave a yarn trail but had eventually settled for putting the sweater on instead and being warm and lost.

She’d gone so long with only the sounds of her own footsteps for company that she nearly went into a complete panic when she heard something move ahead of her.

“Loki?” she called out, cautiously.

Around a bend in the tunnel ahead emerged a white hart, glowing palely and uncannily in the dark. It stopped, completely still, and stared at her.

She felt her heart thudding wildly in her chest and bit down on the crazy impulse to laugh. “Loki?” she asked again. “This better not be your patronus or I am never letting you live this down.”

The hart blinked at her, then turned heading back the way it came. As quickly as she could without making a racket, Darcy followed.

It became clear quickly that the hart was leading her, as it kept pausing to look back and her. She followed it through path after path, taking branch after branch until the path began to slope downhill beneath her feet. She heard the sound of running water in the distance, and the air grew chill with damp as they descended.

The hart stopped at the bank of an underground stream and looked back at her. Then it dipped its head down and began to slowly drink the water.

She crept up to the bank of the river, standing beside the hart and she tangled her fingers in the fur at its neck. “So, what now?” she asked.

The hart continued to drink, ignoring her.

“The sad part about this, my antler-y friend, is I can’t tell if it’s crazy or not that I’m talking to a deer.” She peered into its eyes, and, pale grey and almost lifeless, they stared blankly back at her.

“So, not Loki then?” She poked it gently in the side, and then smoothed down its fur. “Right, sorry. Just a deer. Just a giant white magical deer which is just a giant white magical coincidence and not a giant white magical sign that I am about to be rescued and probably have horrible tunnel dirt sex.”

The deer seemed to be giving her an odd look.

“Oh, shut up,” she said. With a sigh she sat down on the bank, pulling her hair back into a messy bun. Then, cupping her hands, she splashed some of the river water onto her face.

After that, it all went dark.

…

Loki crept quietly along, on high alert. He hadn’t meant to be separated from Darcy, but a certain degree of pandemonium was inevitable when dropping into the realm of the Fae. Order was not their particular strong suit.

He stopped, turning on his heel as he felt her emerge from behind him.

“You,” she said.

“Me,” he replied, giving a half-bow. “It’s been a long time, Myrk.”

She curled her lip in a snarl. “You are foolish to try and pass this way again, Odinson.”

“Oh, come now. No name calling,” he replied. “We both know that’s not strictly true.”

She stepped towards him, moving so soundlessly as to seem to float across the ground. “Ah, so you have discovered your father’s secret. It was one of the better-kept.”

“And yet surely inevitable,” Loki replied.

“As are they all,” said Myrk. “In their own time. Speak, then –” She paused.

“Liesmith will do,” he said, with false pleasantry.

“Not your given name?”

“I know better than to give that away so freely. I have come to strike a bargain. We wish to pass.”

Myrk looked speculative. “And what do you offer? The cost of passage for so many will be great.”

“And I ask for greater still,” Loki said. “You are familiar with Mjolnir?”

Myrk’s eyes glinted dangerously in the light. Her fingers twitched, and Loki could see her lick her dry lips in anticipation. “Yes.”

“I want a weapon that will be its true equal.”

“That is beyond my skill to make,” Myrk said.

“Not, I think, beyond the skill of Steinnleyndur,” said Loki. “Safe passage – for all of us. And you will have them make a weapon for me.”

“And in exchange?” Myrk’s long fingers reached towards Loki, and he deftly stepped aside.

“Mjolnir’s wielder.” He swallowed to cover the slight catch in his voice. “Odin’s firstborn.”

There was a flicker of something – something which made Loki incredibly uneasy – in Myrk’s eyes. “His name?” Her voice was low and hungry.

“Are we agreed?” Loki asked, sharply.

“We are. You will have your weapon, if that is what you truly desire,” said Myrk. “His name?”

“And safe passage?” Loki asked. “Are the rest of them free to pass?”

Myrk smiled unpleasantly. “Not at the moment, but give me his name and they will be.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed. “Release them. Release – there is one, a Midgardian. Alone, I think. Release her now.”

“I think not. She will not last long down here.” Myrk made an excellent show of looking casually malicious. “Do we have an accord or not, Liesmith?”

Loki swallowed. “Thor. His name is Thor. Now release them.”

Myrk appeared to vanish into the wall behind her. “Already done. A pleasure doing business with you.”

…

Fandral had been walking long enough to be thoroughly sick of it. He’d seen no sign of the others – in fact, he’d seen nothing but dirt for hours, and he would have taken a hoard of angry Jotuns over yet more endless tunnels of earth. Well, at this particular point, he was mostly interested in one _particular_ Jotun, who he would cheerfully and thoroughly strangle and bury in all this endless earth and have Thor (and the rest of them) rid of his malevolent influence once and for all.

He blamed himself, really, for falling for it again. They always did, with Loki. He was never sure which was worse, the knowledge that Loki seemed confined to the same bag of small tricks, or that he did them so well that they fell for them time and time again. After all, they had once been friends – and Fandral would be lying if he didn’t wish that he could simply go back to the way things were.

But it was impossible to move forwards knowing that all along Loki had simmered with resentment for him, and had simply been biding his time, waiting to strike out at them. And here, yet again, he bore the brunt of it: caught in Loki’s trap, doomed to wander these endless dirt halls until he starved to death, with nothing but imaginary visions of throttling Loki to keep him company.

When he finally caught sight of the warm light up ahead he broke into a run, tearing towards it in the hope that it might be an exit.

He burst into a large hall. In the middle was a vast table, heavily laden with food, and a great roaring fire in a hearth. At the table’s head was a woman, with two long golden braids which passed her waist, and a white dress. Her hands were open, lying palm up on the table. And she was staring fixedly at Volstagg, who was – apparently – attempting to shove an entire roast pheasant into his mouth in one go.

“Well, well, well,” said Fandral. “I’m not surprised I should find you here, friend, feasting while I have wandered these tunnels for hours. You did always have the best nose of us for food.”

Volstagg said nothing. There was something frenetic about the way he was eating, barely stopping to breathe. The woman at the head of the table stared, eerily still.

Fandral put his hand on the pommel of his sword.

“Volstagg?” he asked, putting his hand on his friend’s shoulder. Volstagg didn’t even blink, or halt the flow of his continuous eating. He tugged at him. “Enough of that. We must go.”

It had no effect.

Fandral turned his gaze to the woman. “And who might you be?”

She looked up at him, and Volstagg immediately dropped, head first onto the table and lay unmoving.

“What have you done?” he asked, sharply, drawing his sword.

“He is not dead,” she said, rising to her feet and reaching her hands out, palms up, to Fandral. “Only sleeping.”

Fandral kept his eyes trained on her as he checked for a pulse and confirmed it to be true. “Wake him up,” he said. “We’re leaving.”

“No,” she said. “Not him.”

Fandral wrapped an arm around Volstagg’s chest, pulling him half upright. He was dead weight, his feet dragging uselessly against the ground, and all he did was make an odd sort of sound halfway between a snuffle and a snore.

“Oh, wake up, you bastard,” muttered Fandral. “Enough of these tricks!”

The woman stepped forward, her hands outstretched. Then, curiously, she seemed to freeze. Volstagg shifted in his grip, grunting and beginning to stir. 

With a snarl she looked down at Volstagg and back to Fandral. “You are free to leave.”

“What? Just like that?” Fandral asked. Volstagg let out a low moan. “As much as I hate to admit it, I’m not usually so persuasive.”

She shrieked, launching herself at him. “Get out!”

It was hard to both keep hold of Volstagg and battle her off, but he managed to fend off the worst of it as her nails reached for his face and his eyes. He dragged Volstagg, without dignity or grace, bodily from the room. The closer they got to the exit the more he began to stir.

This, however, created its own problems. As when he came to, Volstagg immediately staggered to his feet, shoved at Fandral, and attempted to walk right back towards the table.

“Not that way, you idiot,” Fandral muttered, grabbing the closest part of Volstagg he could reach (the beard) and tugging him along. “Could you at least fix him before we leave?”

Incoherently, Volstagg stumbled, and Fandral managed to shove him bodily out into the tunnel. The woman shrieked once more, and, with a great crash, the doorway collapsed behind them, half-burying them alive in earth.

“I am growing very sick of this,” muttered Fandral, pulling a sputtering Volstagg upright to keep him from suffocating. “Get up.”

“We must go back,” said Volstagg, grabbing Fandral by the shoulders and shaking him.

“Back, forwards, I don’t particularly care so long as it’s _out_ ,” said Fandral. “We must find Thor and the others. Loki has lead us right into the hands of some very hungry gatekeepers – no doubt figuring they’d do his dirty work for him.”

Volstagg outright _moaned_ at the word ‘hungry’ and scrabbled at the mound of dirt that had collapsed with the entryway, flinging it up into the air in large handfuls.

“We must go back, Fandral,” he said, his voice tinged with mania. “You have not tasted – oh! The greatest delicacies… they melt in your mouth. Never have I tasted such wonders. She is beyond _compare_.”

Fandral grabbed hold of him firmly, tugging him to his feet. “And you very likely won’t ever again, my idiot friend,” he said. “Don’t you know better than to eat anything that gets put in front of you? What did you promise?”

“I cannot go on!” wailed Volstagg – but he did, with a great deal of pushing, prodding and threats of bodily harm from Fandral.

“I must go back!” Volstagg said again.

“You fool,” said Fandral. “You should know better than to eat fairie food.”

“Oh, do not say you were not tempted,” Volstagg said bitterly.

“Yes, but _I_ remembered the cost,” said Fandral. “You’re damn lucky I found you, Volstagg, or you would have eaten yourself to death and none of us would have been any the wiser. Now come on, we need to find the others before they fall into the same trap.”

Volstagg let out another low, desolate moan, and began to talk about roast goose.

…

Thor awoke once again to blackness, utterly pitch this time. There were hands in his hair, leisurely braiding the strands together. He felt warm, surrounded by comfort on a soft bed. A cup was brought to his lips, and unthinkingly he drank. It was mead, heavy and sweet on his tongue, and he felt his limbs growing lax as it warmed him through.

“Jane?” he mumbled, turning his head towards the hands.

A low, breathy laugh answered. “Who is Jane?”

He sat up, flinging himself off the bed. He held out his hand, and was met with empty air. Mjolnir, it seemed, was beyond his reach. “Show yourself,” he said.

“Come now, none of that,” said the voice. It was definitely feminine, and he lunged forward in the direction he thought it was coming from.

“I said none of that,” said the voice, more sharply. “Or are you no longer prepared to pay?”

“What do you want of me?” Thor asked, darkly. “Let’s get it over with.”

“A poor attitude for both a beggar and a lover,” said the voice, with a definite pout. “Perhaps I shall simply leave you to rot.”

Through clenched teeth, Thor asked again, “What do you want of me?”

“Better,” she said. “What’s the rush?”

He felt something brush the back of his neck, like cold breath, and he shivered. Long, slim fingers, cold to the touch wrapped around his arms.

“I wish to pay and leave. Take your price and send me back.”

“That’s not how this works,” said the voice. The fingers tightened against his arms and he felt nails, sharp as claws, dig into his skin. “To what? The mortal you left up above? I can hear her shrieking for you even now.”

“Send me back,” he said, grappling in the darkness trying to get his hands on her. She seemed to twist out of his grasp, and he wound up only with a handful of dirt.

“Behave,” she said, teasingly. “So much passion for such an odd creature – do you truly love her?”

He felt breath on his face and it reeked of decay. Cold lips pressed against his own, and he backed away, shoving at her. She was stronger than he was, and her lips grew warm against his skin, becoming soft and pliant and welcoming. The claw-like hands grew soft and small, and tangled in his hair. He could taste that same sweet mead on her tongue now, warming and wholesome, and for a moment – one moment – he leant forward into the kiss.

He was pushed back onto the bed, and, with a growing sense of discomfort, he remembered where he was.

“Stop,” he said. “Stop this.”

A large brazier beside the bed was lit, at last illuminating the cavern in a low, warm light. His assailant was perched on the bed. She was thin, almost to the point of being gaunt, with pale, flaxen hair that passed down below her waist and pooled around her. She was staring at him, contemplatively.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“At last,” she replied, smiling. “You begin to ask better questions. I am Myrk, and this passage is under my keeping. You cannot pass through it without my consent, so a touch of amenability would hardly go amiss.” She stood up and began to circle the bed, running her hand across the sheets as she did.

Thor felt his limbs growing heavy and relaxed, and felt his strength beginning to ebb from him. She tangled her hands in his hair once more.

“Many heroes have passed this way before,” she said. “I have seen them all. And one by one they have all been diverted from their paths and dwelt here instead, with me.”

“I have read of your kind,” said Thor, “of the Fae. I know your tricks. They will not work on me.”

She laughed, and it set his teeth on edge. It filled the room and seemed to echo off the walls back at him, amplifying itself until he could barely bear it.

“You underestimate me, as did your father, _Odinson_ , if you think you know my power.” She raked her fingernails across his cheek.

It was beginning to become a struggle even just to lift his head and turn to look at her. His limbs felt impossibly heavy, weighted to the bed around him, and he could hear his own frantic pulse in his hears.

“You know of my father?”

“I _know_ your father,” corrected Myrk. She trailed a finger down his chest. “He had not your strength. Most would have given up by now.”

He tried to bat her hand away, but only managed to just lift his hand off the bed before letting it drop back down.

“Come now,” she said. “No more of that. Rest easy, you have had a long journey.” Her lips brushed his jawline. He began to smell something cloyingly sweet, and the world seemed to drift somewhat out of focus. He felt a pressing urge to do something, but could no longer remember what it was, lost in the sensation of Myrk’s hands and her lips.

“I could make you greater than you could ever dream,” she said, her voice low and husky. “After all, where do you think the great Odin learned his arts? But you? Your will is greater still… I will _have it_.”

A trickle of dirt rained down on his face, spilling into his nose and mouth. Then another, and another. He peered up at the ceiling above him.

Myrk let out a low growl. “Damn,” she said.

A small explosion of earth rained down upon them, and Myrk scuttled to her feet. He could just make out a small, pale hand, fingers outstretched, reaching down towards him.

_Jane_. Jane had come for him.


End file.
